


Stomach Flu

by bexlafon



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (2015)
Genre: Comfort, F/M, gallya
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-28
Updated: 2015-12-28
Packaged: 2018-05-10 00:20:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5561527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bexlafon/pseuds/bexlafon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gaby gets a bug and her boys take care of her</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stomach Flu

Gaby smiled lovingly at Napoleon. She heard Illya huff in her earpiece. Their latest assignment required Gaby and Napoleon to be on a fake date at a posh restaurant. They were in New York City trying to get information on a suspected arms dealer. The dealer ate here every week and supposedly met with his contact. Illya watched the restaurant from across the street. He was unhappy with the turn of events, having been told that his accent was “too Russian” for this establishment.

Gaby pushed around the food on her plate. At the start of the “date” she had been ravenously hungry, but her appetite had suddenly disappeared. She shivered, little goosebumps appearing on her arms. Napoleon gave her a discreet look of concern before resuming his charming routine. Their target was getting up to leave after a four hour long dinner. The informant who was supposed to meet him had never shown, or else they had questionable intel. Napoleon signaled for their own check. 

Gaby held on to Napoleon’s arm a little tighter than necessary for the charade as they walked home. They were staying at an apartment that U.N.C.L.E. leased in the city. Illya was already back when they arrived. Napoleon briefed him on what little they had learned. Gaby tried to participate but had a hard time focusing on the conversation. 

“I’m going to bed,” she announced abruptly. She carefully made her way to her room. She was lightheaded and dizzy, but she didn’t want her partners to know she was sick. She managed to get ready for bed and fall onto the mattress. She shivered in the August warmth and pulled the covers up higher.

***

“Is Gaby alright?” Illya asked, frowning at the closed door. Napoleon glanced over as well. 

“She was fine until the end of dinner. Then she started to look queer. And on the walk back, she seemed to have some difficulty. She didn’t say anything, though,” he said. Illya’s frown deepened. He went to the door and knocked softly. There was no answer, so he cracked it open. He could see her sleeping form under a pile of blankets.

“She is sleeping,” he informed Napoleon, returning to the couch. He still felt as if something was off, even after checking on her. 

“Well, there’s nothing we can do sitting here worrying about it. Let’s go to bed. Gaby will wake us if she needs us,” Napoleon said. Illya wasn’t so sure, but he followed the American to the room they shared. 

***

Gaby woke up suddenly. Her stomach felt like it was trying to escape her body. She was drenched in sweat. Another roll of her stomach sent her scrambling to the bathroom. She barely made it to the toilet before her expensive dinner came back up. She had enough energy to flush the evidence of her sickness, then decided to just rest for a moment on the cool tile floor. She was soon back in fitful sleep. 

***

Illya was on edge, even more so than usual. Every little sound in the apartment brought him out of his light sleep. The sixth time this happened, he gave up on sleep altogether. He had gone longer on less sleep, so it wasn’t a great hardship for him. He went out into the living room so he wouldn’t wake Napoleon. He turned on a dim lamp and sat in front of the chess set that had been brought to the apartment before they arrived. 

This time, he was sure the noise came from Gaby’s room. He heard quick steps and then the sound of Gaby’s stomach rebelling against her. He went to her door, hesitating to go in. He waited, listening. The toilet flushed but no steps sounded back to the bed. He slowly opened the door and saw Gaby lying on the bathroom floor across the room. Her head rested on her arm, and she was curled into a ball. He knelt beside her and carefully picked her up. She shivered and curled into his chest, but Illya could feel her skin burning up through her pajamas. He placed her back in bed and pulled the blankets up. He felt her forehead with the back of his hand, but his hands were always cold, so he couldn’t tell much difference. He leaned over and pressed his lips to her forehead. Her skin warmed his lips. She definitely had a fever. 

Illya went into the kitchen for a glass of water. He returned to Gaby’s room with a chair. He set the glass on her bedside table then went to get a trashcan. He placed in by the bed and sat in the chair, content to watch her since he wasn’t sleeping anyway. A few hours went by and she kicked off the blankets, sweating even more. Then she sat up again, ready to run for the bathroom. Illya sprang up and held the trashcan in front of her. He took it back when she was done and set it by the door. He gave her the water and helped her hold it while she drank nearly the whole glass. She lay back down but then grabbed his hand and brought it to her neck. She sighed at the coolness on her heated flesh. Illya sat on the edge of the bed and cradled her head in his hands, using his thumbs to massage her temples. She smiled weakly and rested one of her hands on his forearm. She was back asleep in no time at all. Illya got up, careful not to disturb her. He cleaned up and got another glass of water.

The sun came up, and Gaby hadn’t woken up again. Illya heard Napoleon moving around in the kitchen and went out. Napoleon looked up from the refrigerator in surprise. He grinned and brought out eggs and orange juice. He wagged his eyebrows at Illya, who frowned.

“Stop. Gaby has been sick all night. I found her lying on her bathroom floor,” he said. Napoleon’s smile vanished and he tried to move around Illya. The Russian stopped him with a hand to his chest. 

“She is sleeping and okay for now. She has a fever and vomited twice. I need you to go to the store and get stuff,” Illya said. 

“Yeah, okay. What kind of stuff?” Napoleon asked, moving into the bedroom to get dressed.

“I don’t know. Sick stuff, for people with a fever and upset stomach. I don’t think she can eat anything we have here,” Illya ran his hands through his hair in agitation. “I’ve never cared for a sick person before.” Napoleon reemerged.

“Neither have I. First time for everything, eh Peril?” he said. He was out the door before Illya could respond. He heard Gaby moving around and rushed back to her room. She was sitting on the edge of the bed but didn’t look nauseous. 

“Gaby? How do you feel?” Illya asked. She looked up at him with dark smudges under her eyes. She shrugged in response. She tried to stand and wobbled a bit on her feet.

“You need to be in bed,” Illya said, trying to move her back. She pushed his hands away.

“I have to pee,” she muttered, not looking at him. Illya let her go, ready to intervene if she couldn’t make it on her own. Slowly but surely she made it to the bathroom and shut the door in Illya’s face. He hovered outside the door until she came out. She gave him a look and shuffled back to the bed. Illya sat in his chair. 

“Illya, stop staring at me,” Gaby mumbled into her pillow. 

“You should eat something. I will make you toast,” Illya said, ignoring her grumbles. He jumped up and went into the kitchen. He returned a few minutes later with a piece of toast and a fresh glass of water. Gaby had dozed off, so he set them down on the table. 

“Gaby, wake up,” he said softly, placing his cool hand against her face. His thumb stroked her cheek. She leaned into his touch before her eyes fluttered open to find him leaning over her. She saw the toast and huffed in annoyance. Illya’s lips twitched with a smile. Gaby sat up.

“I’m not eating that in bed. It will make a mess everywhere,” she said. She swung her legs to the side, intending on moving to the kitchen. Illya suddenly scooped her up in his arms. She clung to him in surprise, though she knew he’d never let her fall. 

“Illya, I can walk,” she said as he carried her out of the bedroom. He hummed in acknowledgement but ignored her otherwise. He set her on the couch with a look to stay put. He brought her food and blankets in as well. While she ate, he went to change his clothes. Gaby turned on the television and flipped through channels until she found cartoons. She only finished half her toast and then stretched out on the couch, head resting on one of the arms. Illya came back in and took her plate without a word. She felt a tap on her head and looked up to find him holding her pillow. She lifted up and allowed him to place it underneath her. She lay back down, content to doze there on the couch. 

Napoleon burst through the door, over an hour after he had left, with his arms full of bags. Illya raised his eyebrows and helped him put everything in the kitchen. Gaby was still in the living room and hadn’t noticed his arrival.   
“What did you buy?” Illya asked. Napoleon looked sheepish.  
“There was an older lady there, and I asked her what she recommended. I pretty much got everything she mentioned,” he admitted. He dug through the bags, looking for something in particular. He held up a little bottle triumphantly. “This should help her fever.” He shook out two pills and headed for the living room. Gaby cracked open her eyes when he knelt beside her. 

“Here you go, take these,” Napoleon said. She rose up on an elbow to take the pills and the glass of water from the coffee table. He felt her forehead while she drank, and she glared at him. He winked and left her alone. Illya hovered by the kitchen door. Napoleon clapped him on the shoulder then moved behind him to make his own breakfast. Illya joined him reluctantly. They ate in companionable silence. Illya was placing his plate in the sink when Gaby called out.

“Illya!” she cried with slight panic in her voice. He dropped the plates and ran for the trashcan. He made it to the couch just in time. Gaby wiped her mouth and looked at him apologetically. Napoleon appeared with a glass of ginger ale and a handkerchief. She took both gratefully. Illya moved to clean up and get the trashcan ready again in case she needed it. 

Gaby spent the rest of the day on the couch, mostly sleeping. Napoleon made her chicken broth soup for lunch, which she managed to keep down. Her fever seemed to go down for a while, and she felt a little better. It came back with a vengeance in the evening, and Gaby was burning up on the couch. Her head felt like it was stuffed with cotton. She kicked off the covers. The guys were both in the living room with her. Napoleon was in the overstuffed chair, and Illya occupied the other end of her couch. She had a sudden thought, and her fever struck brain thought it was a brilliant idea. She sat up and laid the other way, resting her head on Illya’s lap. He froze for a moment, but then she felt his hands (his blessedly cold hands) in her hair. She sighed with contentment. 

“Her fever is back up,” Illya said quietly to Napoleon in Russian. He stroked Gaby’s heated head. “Will you get some more medicine and a washcloth?” Napoleon nodded and got up. 

“Gaby, you need to take some more medicine,” Illya said. He helped her sit up to take the tablets from Napoleon. She lay back down and Illya took the wet cloth and placed it on her forehead. She fell asleep like that. Illya carried her to the bed and tucked her in. 

“You going to sleep tonight, Peril?” Napoleon asked from the door. 

“Don’t worry about me, Cowboy,” Illya replied. Napoleon shook his head and moved towards his own room. Illya got settled in his chair. 

***

Gaby woke up in the middle of the night again. She felt much better this time. She got up to pee and saw Illya sleeping in the chair. He looked uncomfortable, not that Illya ever really looked comfortable in any situation. She slid off the bed tiptoed by. In the bathroom, she did her business then brushed her teeth twice to get the taste of sickness out of her mouth. Heading back to bed, she stopped by the chair and touched Illya’s shoulder. He woke up instantly, the only movement giving it away was his eyes opening. He started to get up when he saw Gaby standing over him, but she shook her head. 

“Go to bed, Illya. At least go sleep on the couch. I’m okay,” she said, voice barely above a whisper. He frowned at her but went, pointedly leaving the door open.

The next day, Gaby was feeling much better. Well enough, she thought, to fly out to England as they had planned to do the day before. Illya and Napoleon disagreed, and so Gaby found herself planted on the couch again and coddled. She was a grumpy patient, unused to being taken care of. She convinced them to leave her alone long enough to take a bath, which made her feel halfway human again. The television wasn’t enough distraction this time, so she made Illya and Napoleon entertain her. Illya tried to teach her chess, patiently explaining rules and strategies which she then ignored. Napoleon attempted to teach her Japanese, which she picked up surprisingly well. She would never admit it to them, but she was still tired and actually had fun with them all day. Before going to bed, she made them promise that they would leave tomorrow since she hadn’t had any relapses. They grumbled but agreed. 

Gaby was the first one ready to go in the morning. She bounced around the apartment, excited to be on the move again. A thorough check of the place and the boys were finally ready to go. Napoleon grabbed a handful of luggage and headed out the door. Illya was following right behind, but Gaby stopped him. 

“Illya, I wanted to thank you for taking care of me,” she said, looking up at him.

“It was nothing,” he said, shrugging. Gaby raised an eyebrow at him.

“Still, I know I wasn’t the best patient. So thank you.” She reached up to wrap a hand around his neck and tug him down. She rose up on tiptoe and pressed a quick kiss on the corner of his mouth then ducked her head and hurried out the door. Illya stood frozen with surprise for a moment. He straightened to his full height and touched where her lips had been. Then he followed them out the door.


End file.
